Shattering Mirror
by Nathalie Andrews
Summary: A oneshot: Post-finale in Season 5. Relatively unspoiling of the entire season 4, and purely theoretical from what we already knew at the end of season 3. They won the war, but at what cost? Warning: Cass/Dean slash, and depressive angst.


**_Disclaimer; Just borrowing a set of characters, for pleasure, not business! I dont own any of the contents, it all belongs to Kripke!_

**...**

**Shattering Mirrors**

Time stood still.

Something inside Dean had turned into a rocky substance, dragging him down. Still, he felt weak and reflecting. Like a mirror, balancing on an edge.

He wasn't one for words or for embracing emotions.

Just moments, passing by, filling the void. What he felt lay in a world of shadow, although these were not his words. There were no words.

Dean tried to breathe, and raised his eyebrows until his forehead began creasing. The angel walked towards him. A heavy stone in Dean's stomach region sunk deeper for each step he came closer.

"Don't…" He could hardly find voice to say it.

Castiel stopped, compassion and sadness painted all over his face.

Guilt crashed into Dean, drowning him like a frosty river.

But it wasn't because of the angel.

They had won. The bitter razorblade of victory was cutting his wrists, digging into his mind with arched claws.

Sam was dead.

They had won, but it didn't matter, because Sam was dead.

And the mirror was falling.

Dean closed his eyes, letting it fall.

A hand was suddenly there, it landed soundlessly on his palm.

He looked at him, tears slipping from his red, hazel eyes.

An intense expression of hurt and pain lay on Dean's blood-stained face, and Castiel felt how it tore at his own inner substance.

"I'm sorry."

There was a deep crack in his dark voice.

Dean just shook his head slowly, and met the blue eyes with an empty silence.

"Please, Dean." Castiel was on the verge of something terrible. He felt like if his human vessel was about to burst.

There was no answer at first, but then it came quietly.

"We did it. We saved the world, didn't we?"

His eyes, hollow and empty.

"You did."

There was little else to answer.

"This is the end. It's all over…"

Castiel closed his eyes.

"It is…"

They were closer together now. Dean hadn't even seen him move.

Castiel didn't understand. Why he did it. How it came to happen. Didn't understand the pull that tore the ropes off his emotions, and laid them bare. How the world seemed to fade away to the haze of nothingness around them.

All that he sensed was the salty taste of tears on mellow lips. The shivering body, that he half expected to push him away, didn't.

As Castiel held him close against his chest, Dean's knees faltered. They slid down to the ground, and Dean rested his head against the muscle under the angel's collarbone, right above his heart. He had stopped crying. Just lay there, in silence, not wanting to move. Not wanting to face anything else than his own beating heart, and staggering breath. If he moved, he would have to accept what had happened. So, he just lay there, cradled in strong arms. Like a child. Only there was nothing fatherly in how Castiel had touched him.

"Dean…"

There was such a frailty to what Castiel was holding that he dared only speak in whispers. Why had they let this happen? The world had been hanging by a single thread of spite, and yet they had beaten the darkness back into its cage. The brothers had saved the world. Why not save them in return? Castiel knew the answer.

Destiny.

Simply an idea of a grand puzzle, pieced together by the pawns of faith. If Dean was still himself, he would have called it BS.

Perhaps it was.

Castiel didn't know what to really believe anymore. His faith was tattered, down to the depths of his own formerly unwavering substance.

Dean raised his head, looking intro his eyes.

"Why didn't you save him?"

"I'm sorry Dean…"

"I didn't ask for your sorry" Dean almost snarled, blood suddenly pumping twice as hard through his veins. "Why didn't you save him?"

Castiel only swallowed, and met Dean's stare with his own blank blue gaze.

There was little else to say.

They were sitting there, staring at each other for several minutes, before Dean suddenly got up. He threw a look of what was almost disgust at Castiel, who were still on his knees in front of him.

Then he turned around, and walked away.

"Dean…"

Castiel felt an aggravating pain burning in the back of his throat, and unexpected tears were fogging up his vision.

"Dean!"

He tried to make himself stand up, but the dead vessel was failing him.

Dean, opening the door of the impala, stopped and turned around. There was only bitterness and hatred left in his face.

"Maybe one day, I'll see you back in hell…"

Castiel's eyes remained wide open, even as he found himself staring at the dark dirt underneath him. As the sounds of the car faded, he looked up again, and saw that he was now all alone.

They had saved the world, but were still left to fall in darkness.

And silence.

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End file.
